Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dawn creeps through the penthouse window, bathing the room in a soft glow.
Ashlynn’s still asleep when I get up. She breathes through parted lips softly, her face nuzzled close to my side.
She didn’t have much to say last night after I gave her a solution to severing her relationship with the Steele’s, not even after I stayed buried inside of her until she fell asleep.
I don’t expect today to be easy for her.
As much as she wants to be free of them, she doesn't want to feel like she needs to rely on me. I don't need her to tell me that.
My eyes trace the freckles on her cheeks, the curve of her lips. Brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, I lean in and give her a soft kiss there. A groan slips from her parted lips before she buries her face in the pillow. Her eyes flutter open, sleep still heavy in her gaze.
“You know who stares at people who sleep?” she asks with a small smirk.
“Mmm, why don’t you tell me, doll?”
“Psychopaths,” she whispers teasingly.
A slow smile pulls at my lips. “Good thing you’ve got a soft spot for one.”
She rolls onto her back, stretching, the black sheets sliding down her bare shoulders. Her hair’s a mess. She looks warm. Real. Mine.
Her gaze slides to the windows. The sunlight that streams through the crack in the curtains brightens her crystal blue eyes. She turns on her side again to face me, a weight settling over her.
“You were serious,” she says quietly.
It’s not a question. Silence settles between us, not tense–just heavy with understanding. She studies my face, looking for the angle. The catch. The cost.
“You really want to send the car back.”
“Yes.”
“And the loft.”
“That too,” I say, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
Her jaw tightens slightly. Pride. Independence. That spark that refuses to be tied to anyone. To be owned by anyone.
“I don’t want to jump from one leash to the next, Karson.”
I sit up, bracing an arm beside her head.
“You’re not on a leash. Not with me. The only thing I want from you is you. That’ll never change,” I promise her.
Her throat moves as she swallows, then nods. I lean down, brushing my lips against hers.
“Get dressed,” I whisper. “We’ve got a couple returns to make.”
Walking into the loft, the air is cold, silent, dark. Flipping on a light, Ashlynn brushes past me, moving quickly to gather some bags from the closet I used to hide in.
“In a hurry?” I ask.
“I’ve been waiting to be free of those fucking people since I turned eighteen, Karson. Let’s get this over with.” She doesn’t look at me as she exits the closet.
Reaching out, I wrap an arm around her waist as she brushes past me and tug her to my chest. She tenses, but her eyes soften at the corners when they meet mine. Sensing I’m about to lose her to her own mind, I gently squeeze her hip.
“I will not let you down, terror. I’ve got you.”
“I know,” she tells me, lifting her chin. “If I don’t hurry, I’ll get stuck. And as nervous as I am about this, I’m ready. No more running.”
A smile spreads across my face.
“Good.”
She lifts on her tiptoes, and slams her lips into mine.
A knock on the door interrupts the moment.
“You’re early,” I grit and turn toward the door.
“You’re welcome.” Cole’s shit eating grin makes me want to rip his head from his shoulders. He steps into the apartment, his laughter echoing off the exposed brick.
Ashlynn smiles at him.
“So, what do you want me to grab?” he asks.
“I only came back for clothes. I don’t care about the rest. Just give me ten minutes,” Ashlynn tells us before escaping my hold, and making her way to the bedroom part of the loft.
She moves quickly, emptying drawers and throwing the contents into a bag without even folding them. Then, she comes back down and slips into the bathroom. When she reappears, a plastic bag full of her shower products hangs from her finger.
“Can we grab anything, doll?” I ask. She inhales deeply, eyes searching the space.
“Anything that might be hanging in that closet. The pictures on the refrigerator. That’s it.”
The three of us move quickly, gathering the last of her things. I carefully pull down each of the pictures from the refrigerator and hand them to her as she stops in front of me.
“Thank you,” she says. She glances around the apartment once more, no emotion, just scanning. Cole drops a bag by the door.
“I think that’s everything,” he announces.
“Good,” she nods. “Let’s go.”
We exit the front door in silence as Parker’s Jeep pulls up along the sidewalk behind Ashlynn’s Audi. She exits the vehicle and meets us on the sidewalk.
“You ready?” she asks Ashylnn, rubbing her shoulder in a comforting manner.
Ashlynn looks up at me, confused.
“Cole and I will take the car and the keys back,” I stroke her cheek. “I told you. Last night was the last time you ever went back there.”
Tears fill her eyes before she quickly blinks them away.
“We have some things to take care of after that, so I figured you might like a girls’ day.”
Layla steps out of Parker’s car and joins us.
“Wine, popcorn, shitty movies. You in?” Layla asks. Ashlynn nods excitedly at her friends. Her bags thud on the sidewalk and she launches herself into my arms, her legs circling my waist. I wrap my arms tightly around her middle and she buries her face in the crook of my neck.
“Thank you, Karson,” she whispers against my ear. My arms rub up and down her back.
“Anything for you, doll. Go. Have fun with your friends. I’ll take care of the rest.” When her feet hit the sidewalk again, she wipes under her eyes.
I plant a soft, gentle kiss to her lips.
She melts into me. She pulls away, giving me another grateful smile, then the girls enter the jeep and drive away.
Cole and I load the few bags into the trunk of the Camaro.
“Alright. Let’s go visit the Steele’s.”
Morning light washes over the Steele estate as Cole pulls the Audi around the circle drive, my Camaro rolling in behind him.
He parks at the base of the front steps and the front door opens before either of us step out.
I kill the engine and step out from the Camaro slowly, resting my forearms over the hood.
Jack Steele stops halfway down the steps.
His gaze lands on the Audi first. Then on me.
Melissa lingers in the doorway behind him. Perfect hair. Immaculate posture. Hands loosely clasped in front of her as if she’s observing a garden.
“Morning,” Jack says evenly.
“Mr. Steele,” I reply, matching his tone.
Cole swings the Audi door shut and walks around the back of it, keys swinging lazily from his fingers. He stops two steps below Jack and extends his hand.
“She won’t be needing this anymore.”
Jack takes the keys without breaking eye contact with me. Cole doesn’t wait for acknowledgement. He turns his back and walks toward the Camaro. His part is done. And in his mind, this exchange is finished. Jack’s eyes flick to the Audi once more before returning to me.
“And the loft?” he asks cooly.
“Inside,” I tilt my head toward her car. “Keys are in the console.”
Melissa shifts slightly in the doorway. Not forward. Not back. Just enough to show she’s listening. Her chin lifts. She’s not surprised or upset. Almost…prepared.
Jack studies me for a long, deliberate second. “That was quick.”
“It was necessary.”
Silence stretches between us.
“She understands what she’s giving up?” he asks.
“She knows exactly what she’s leaving.”
The distinction is intentional. Jack’s jaw ticks, almost imperceptibly. Behind him, Melissa’s clasped hands tighten, knuckles paling before she smooths her expression again.
“We’ll see,” he says quietly, straightening the jacket of his suit. He steps past us, measured and unhurried, then slides into his own car. The engine starts and the door shuts, ending the conversation.
Cole drops into the passenger seat of my Camaro without a word. I reach for my door, but my eyes lift once more to the house. Melissa is still standing there, watching. Not angry. Not rattled. Not even mildly inconvenienced. Her expression is smooth. Almost patient. My jaw ticks.
She’s too calm.
A woman like her doesn’t lose something without already having something else in her pocket. Her chin lifts slightly when our eyes meet, then she steps back inside. The front door closes softly behind her.
I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key. The engine rumbles to life.
“Let’s go.”
As we pull away, I don’t look back. I don’t need to. Something tells me this won’t be the last time we hear from Melissa Steele.